


"Beg, Barter or Steal Remix"

by blackpurpleblack (orphan_account)



Series: Beg Barter or Steal [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, aww yeah here we go, fucking balls deep, setting up the scene yo, this shit is going deep
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-08 04:29:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/757059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/blackpurpleblack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We now join our hero, Tavros Nitram as he battles his feelings for Gamzee Makara after their hot steamy incident in the back room. Will Tavros ever get over his half smile heart stealer or will he die alone, the loneliest lone man sad sad. I don't know how to write these.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Beg, Barter or Steal Remix"

===> shit son you got wrecked.

You pretend that you don't think about it; that your thoughts are the perfect example of discipline and you don't think about his mouth around... Nope. You busy yourself with catering to customers and you actually move product faster than usual. You don't allow yourself to sit still because you're pushing down all your guilt and heartbreak into your core. Ignoring the fact that the poison you're keeping down will eventually come up in a vomit fast break down and you pretend that you don't cry at night. 

You tend to avoid Equius' back room, for some reason he starts to sweat more then usual when he's in and you try to make encounters brief. Nepeta, Equius's not-girlfriend-no-we're-just-really-close-friends suddenly spends more time asking you and Sollux questions that aren't so subtle in their implications. You shudder to think that somehow your escapade will become the perfect fodder for her writing. Not that you don't approve of her job as a 'independent writer', you just don't want to be reminded of what you did. 

Sollux doesn't notice that you're not your usual "happy" self. He's been spending his time with Dave downstairs in studio recording Dave's sweet raps and trying to build a record label. You managed to cover your nearly two thousand dollar bonk with money from your bank account and when he counts the cash stack at the end of the week Rainbow Music actually makes a profit. Everything is starting to look up but you battle with yourself every night at home. 

You thought you saw him once at the grocery store bus stop but you weren't able to catch a full view because you drove off. Twenty three and pinning over a quick fuck is something pathetic and it takes you a full hour in the morning just to get the courage to get up out of bed. Your older brother calls you and you spend the entire conversation trying not to sound like you're hurt again and need help. You don't want him to spend the money flying down from whatever wilderness he's in now, you want to prove that you can stand on your own two feet... metaphorically of course. You've dealt with this before, when you were dating /her/ you learned how to repress your own opinions and feelings. So you know how to deal, with a tight lid on things but a part of you knows that you're drowning slowly and you can't hold out for much longer.

The blind drummer you sold those red plastic sticks to comes in again and she's all smiles. You sell her more sticks and she tells you to show up at a local venue to see her band perform again. Somehow you get the feeling that she knows you from before your incident but you shake that off as paranoia. The last time you went out to see her play it was a pretty exciting show, you were not able to shake that after show buzz for days. Knowing you need the distraction you smile and tell her you'll be there. Dave catches the end of your conversation and when she's out of the shop he wolf whistles and calls dibs. He tells you that he'll pick you up an hour before because hot damn if he let's that sweet piece slip from his womanizing fingers. When you get home you spend your time fussing over your appearance but the only thing you change is your t-shirt. 

Dave picks you up in his 'ironic' Delorean around six o'clock, and he stashes your wheelchair in the trunk. Riding shot gun with a Strider at the wheel is pretty cool, and conversation comes easy to you. This is the first time in a while that you're able to talk to someone without flustering and his cool kid demeanor meshes easy with your halting conversation. He fills in the gaps and you two discuss the legitimacy of nightcore on your way to the venue. 

The only snag that threatens the night is the fact that the club's entrance has stairs. God damn, how you hate stairs.

"Well hog tie me and fuck me sideways." Dave says in an overly exaggerated mimic of his soft southern accent.

"No big deal man, I'll just wheel around back." You say. 

"Fuck that." Dave exclaims, "Striders don't leave a man behind."

He reaches down and you can feel his arms simultaneous slide behind your back and under your legs. 

"Dave, what the fuck?" You say.

"We're doing this kid," He says, "I'm going to carry you over that threshold and then ravish you like its our god damn honey moon." 

You blush, something that is hidden in the dim lights of the streets. The crowd of people milling about outside start to laugh and smile, cheering Dave on as he takes it a step at a time towards the threshold. You're worried that he'll drop you, however hidden beneath that unbelievably stick thin figure Dave actually has muscles. His breath is rhythmic in your ear and he manages to carry you into the venue and sets you on a bar stool.

"Hold here steady, Tavros darling. I'll be back." He says much to your chagrin. He's playing the part of southern gentlemen too well and he leaves a quick kiss on your cheek before heading back for your wheelchair. You blush and the barman just shakes his head and smiles at you. You order gin and juice, because fuck if your nerves are going to last the night with Strider acting like that. 

"My lady," Dave breathes into your ear. You would have jumped but working with Dave in the store has built up your reflexes against his antics. He's got your wheelchair in front of him and he's giving you an over the top bow.

"Fuck you man," You laugh at him, "I can get back into my chair without your help." He shrugs as you lower yourself off of the stool into your seat, and you pretend not to notice that he's steadying the wheels for you. 

"So should we park on primo spot to watch this?" Dave asks. You smile and grab your drink from the bar.

"Sure man, just wheel me up close and put the brakes on. This chair is a ticket to everything." You say before taking a sip from your drink.

He wheels you through the milling crowd and you come to a stop directly in front of the stage. Someone bumps your elbow and spills some of your drink on your pants. 

"Hey man." Dave says to the offender, "Watch where the fuck you're going brah."

"Sorry motherfucker," a familiar voice replies. You look up and feel all of the blood leave your body.

It's Gamzee Makara. Fuck.


End file.
